Chapter 42
ELLE
Marik leads me down a dimly lit corridor, the sounds of drunken witches receding with every hurried step. Every few seconds, he glances back over his shoulder. I take it his witchy plaything wouldn’t approve of this.
“Where are we going?” I huff. I used to spend my days running and training, but I’ve spent the last two months lying in bed and crying. Or the dark magic has taken an even bigger toll than I thought. My lungs heave and my feet stumble underneath me as I try not to trip over the hemline of my dress.
“I told you. I’m getting you out.”
I try to toss a sound barrier around us, but my magic stutters. My stomach drops. It’s been weeks since I last summoned. I’m so weak.
Sound barrier, I say down the bond.
With the flick of his wrist, the sounds of our feet pounding against the hardwood floors soften.
“Well, your plan wasn’t very well thought out if you didn’t even consider a sound barrier as a part of our escape,” I hurl at him, but I struggle to get the insult out and control my breathing.
“Sorry, did you want to get out? Or would you prefer to go back to slowly dying in that bedroom?”
He comes to a stop and shoves me into an alcove, pressing his body against mine. I raise my hands, fully intent on shoving him away from me, but he grabs them before I can.
“Someone’s coming,” he whispers, his breath tickling my nose.
Muted footsteps approach, and I don’t move an inch. They pass, and my blood pounds in my ears as I hold my breath. Marik pulls away and pokes his head from the alcove. “Just a guard on patrol,” he says. “Let’s go.”
He grips my hand in his and takes off, all but dragging me behind him. We make it exactly three steps before something strikes our barrier. It disintegrates on impact. I whirl, but Marik shoves me behind him.
Cora’s black aura pulses around her angrily. “And where do you two think you’re going?” she hisses.
I fully expect Marik to burst into laughter, to finally reveal the game he’s been playing.
I flinch when he moves, but it’s not toward Cora.
He throws up another shield and tosses me over his shoulder, turning and running down the hall.
Okay, now I believe him. This is happening. He really is trying to get me out.
Cora bobs in my view as he sprints away, but she doesn’t make a move toward us. She just watches us with fascination. Marik cuts down a side hallway and she disappears, but it does nothing to lessen the way my stomach twists.
“What’s the plan here, Marik?” I ask, not bothering to hide the panic in my question.
“Get you out and funnel you away from here,” he grunts below me.
“That’s it? You planned for years to get on the throne, but you couldn’t come up with a half-decent strategy to get me out of here?!”
He mutters something unintelligible, but it sounds an awful lot like obscenities hurled in my direction. “There are wards on the inside of the castle that prevent funneling. I need to get you outside to funnel you out. That’s the only plan. Get you outside,” he huffs as he runs.
“Let me down. I can lead us out of here. It will be faster.”
He slows his pace, then all but throws me from him. Without the sound of his heavy breathing and his feet slapping on the floors, I make out the sounds of…many pairs of feet running toward us.
Shit.
I take off. He easily matches my pace, trailing slightly behind me to follow my lead. He hands me a dagger, and I jump at the sight of it, ready to defend myself. But the hilt is facing me.
“Mar the mark. It will help,” he says as he jogs beside me. “And take the necklace off. It’s not locked.”
I yank the necklace and throw it to the ground, then grab the dagger and slash at the hidden sigil on my stomach.
My dress rips, but it works. I feel like my lungs can fully expand, like I’m no longer carrying a weighted rucksack over my shoulders.
My steps lighten and I palm the dagger in my hand as my legs pump.
I cut down another hallway, my mind racing at the quickest way to get the fuck out of here that also is the least populated.
The library. It’s near the throne room, so it’s a risk, but it might be the best shot.
Even with the dark magic no longer weighing me down, my thighs still scream, begging me to stop.
I press forward, panting, sucking deep breaths into my lungs, urging them to continue to just hold on, please hold on, we’re almost there.
The racing footsteps behind us grow louder.
Closer. My heart is a pounding mess of adrenaline and fear and full-blown panic.
If I don’t make it out of this, they will kill me.
I will not die. Not today.
A turn ahead looms closer. The final turn before the library doors. I round it and skid to a stop. Marik slams into me from behind.
Cora blocks the path to the library door, a group of witches behind her.
Fuck. Think, think, think.
But I can’t think as she stares at me, and the sound of footsteps behind us is nearing and time is running out, ticking by so slowly, so quickly. I didn’t have enough time.
I don’t want to die.
A burst of fire flies past me, landing at Cora’s feet. It spreads around her and the witches, flames licking and growing higher. I turn, ready to defend myself against the witches behind us. But it’s a group of waitstaff. With gold necklaces.
Asmo’s friends.
I don’t waste a second. I turn and cut through them, sprinting back down the hall. Marik follows close behind me. The front doors are the only option now. I’d rather face a line of guards than Cora and her witches.
The sounds of shouting and glass breaking comes from behind me. I look back and stumble on my dress. Marik catches my elbow and pushes me forward.
The front doors come into view. Four guards stand in front. The only barrier between me and the outside world is four guards. That’s it.
There are more footsteps behind us now. I don’t turn to see if it’s Cora, her witches, or Asmo’s friends. I don’t care. All I care about is getting past those guards, getting through those doors, and leaving this fucking castle behind.
Marik fires black flames at the guards. Two go down.
They scream, but only for a moment. The remaining two watch Marik with wild panic and confusion.
I take advantage, hurling the dagger toward them.
It finds its mark in the guard’s neck. Marik reaches the final guard, who stands like an idiot caught in between fight or flight.
He flees.
And just like that, the doors are free. My pace slows as I remember the steep set of limestone stairs on the other side that will lead me to certain death should I tumble down them. I slam my shoulder through the doors and inhale the sweet, frigid air of freedom.
“Elle!” someone cries from inside the castle, but Marik grabs my arm and pulls me down the path and away from the castle, away from the voice screaming my name, not Mae’s.
Mine.
Someone who knows that I’m trapped in here.
“Marik, wait—I think—” I stutter as I almost trip over this fucking dress again, but his arms are around me and hauling me back to my feet.
“Elle!” the voice calls again as Eliza busts through the castle doors.
Asmo.
“Marik—” I gasp, but his arms are still around me and then wind starts to circle around us. No, no, no. I shove against him, desperate to get away and run to his brother, to safety, but he holds me too tightly and the dagger is gone and I’m too weak to fight his grip.
The funnel fades away, revealing a broken home in the middle of a forest. I collapse. My knees hit the ground, colliding with pine straw and dirt and pebbles that bite into my knees like teeth.
The first sob is one of relief—I’m so fucking relieved to be out of the castle that I once loved, that morphed into a source of pain and memories of death and blood and loss. I bury my head into the ground and scream into the dirt.
The second sob is one of anger—no, wrath—toward Marik, Cora, and everyone who helped them steal the throne. Anger toward myself for giving up, for letting them control me, for letting them win.
The third sob—more a scream than anything—is full of misery for what I’ve let myself become. My tears cut tracks through dirt-covered cheeks. I fist the ground as it all waxes and wanes, rolling through me in waves that come from an ocean that has no end.
I drown in it.
Marik
Elle’s breathing is a steady rhythm that grounds me as my thoughts threaten to spiral.
She lies on the floor on a makeshift bed of curtains and dusty blankets, the only soft things I could find that weren’t moldy.
Her head rests on my jacket, her hair a bed of flames against my black blazer.
It was the only thing I knew for certain wasn’t covered in filth.
After Elle screamed and cried herself to sleep on the forest floor, I carried her inside.
Once I knew she was sound asleep, I spent hours shaking out dust-filled curtains, chasing squirrels from dilapidated cabinets, and getting rid of the hundreds of dead—and alive—bugs that once sought shelter in this home.
I spent the next hour tackling the mold that I could, burning each spore to oblivion.
There was nothing I could do about the moldy furniture, other than throw stained blankets over them.
No matter what I do, the musty smell won’t dissipate.
Light enters through the cracked window, sun shining on Elle as it dips below the tree line. Tonight will be the test. To see if I was able to get her out safely.
I have no earthly idea where we are, but I’m assuming we’re still in the Deer Court, which sets my nerves racing whenever I think about it for too long.